Cope
by Utahimethecreative
Summary: Pro hero life is hard. How do you cope. Sleeping with your boss, burying yourself in your work and a second boyfriend.


I don't know why I write. Maybe I'm just crazy. You're a hero newbie and your agency has you on a difficult case with some top hero's. You're having some issues coping with all that's going on. So, you find comfort in the arms of fire daddy.

…...

"Plea-see, help me!"

She? He? Them? IT, was saddening to look at. The stitched together being crawled on all fours with long clawed nails and a drooping jaw with thick globs of saliva streaming down its chin as it pleaded to die. You winced as it grabbed the hem of your cape, tugging and whimpering like an abandoned puppy in a rain soaked carboard box. It had two strikingly beautiful faces. The left a young actress with green eyes and white-blonde hair. The right, an exotic bronze beauty with freckles and dark features.

"kill me...us?"

Of course, it was confused. It was the work of a mass murderer kidnapping, chopping, dismembering and reassembling pieces of people back together, bonding them to life with a cruel quirk. It was no longer female...or human considering the hooved back haunches, gigantic front hands and strangely bent tail. You took two step backs, trying to wrestle your cape free. You felt like crying, fleeing, throwing up and hiding all in the same instant. In this instant you wished you had listened to All Might, who originally tried to shield you from the sight with the bulk of his frame. You were the only rookie assigned to the case and had refused to be babied.

"Kill us. Kill us. Kill us." Endeavor's large fist palmed the creature's whole skull as you scurried backwards, tripping over your own self.

"Look away Rookie." Endeavor muttered before illuminating the dark warehouse with his blue flames.

And you did.

…...

Liquor. That was your answer. As you downed your fourth-or fifth- double shot of whiskey the thoughts of before grew weaker. The creature's faces, the strange scent of burning flesh, the blood and rust scent of the abandoned warehouse were all melting away. Why the butterfly winged bartender hadn't cut you off by now was a mystery but you signaled for another. The shot glass slid over the wood bar top, sloshing a few drops of brown liquid around on its short journey to your open hand. A trip cut short by the number two hero's callous hand cupping the glass's corner.

"You've had enough Rookie." Endeavor downed it for himself and pulled more than enough bills to cover your tab from his wallet before locking those turquoise gems eyes on you.

"The agency sent you, huh"?" You swiveled around in the bar stool, the old chair creaking under your weight. Endeavor nodded stopping the spinning seat with one finger. His was intimidating, even in his regular clothes. The off black turtle neck cuddled around every bulging muscle of his upper body. Dark denim jeans constrained against thick thighs. A clearly expensive black face Rolex with rose gold accents. He had transitioned back to a regular person so easily after the events of tonight.

You, on the other hand, looked more like a college student headed to an eight AM class than a pro hero who signed a hearty contract at one of the best agencies. Thankfully, the cold and the current time had called all respectable beings into their homes and away from the bar. You couldn't handle the press, fans and your agency breathing down your neck. Oh, but Endeavor breathing down your neck was... oddly delicious.

"There's better ways to cope Rookie." He effortlessly pulled you from the bar stool and guided your wobbly body towards the back exit. The number two hero smelt like cinnamon and warm sugar, a scent you indulged in as you drunkenly shuffled beside him. "I have big investments at your agency. They have big investments in you. I'm not going to be making any profit from a drunkard. Do you understand what I'm getting at?"

You halted in your tracks. "I couldn't think of anything else. They didn't train me for this at UA. How can I cope? How do YOU cope?" With that question you were swept into the women's restroom so quickly your whiskey buzzed brain couldn't recall the events. Had he locked the door? Had he bent you over one of the sinks or did you just assume the position? Were you already kissing his neck and grinding against him like a high school girl? You were flipped around so the two of you locked eyes in the mirror's reflection.

"Rookie, I won't be gentle."

You just nodded spitting on your four fingers and pressing the wet digits to your folds. Massaging in tight counter clockwise circles as you watched the red head free himself from his jeans. He pulled down your baggy sweat pants, watching you work yourself open for him with two fingers. Seeing his size, you realized two digits wouldn't be enough to accommodate the thick member already pressing against you. Endeavor shoved one leg between your own, kicking slightly to open up your stance. His gigantic thumbs pressed at the dimples of your lower back forcing you to arch for him.

His aggression made you wet, his scorching hands made you whimper. You rocked back pressing more of him inside gaining a husky growl of approval. His weight pressed against your back, the heat of his beard burning just lightly next to you ear and now exposed neck.

"Good girl." The pace was just as he warned, far from gentle. He coaxed the first orgasm out of you easily. The fat tip of his dick punishing the back of your pussy with an upwards twist of his powerful hips. Your cheek was pressed against the mirror, your needy hot pants for more fogging the mirror. The slickness from your aching pussy coating every inch of the pro hero. The open zipper scratching lightly at your inner thighs each time his heavy sack slapped against you.

This was good. You couldn't think of anything other than chanting his name in approval or the way he spread you open. This was copeing.


End file.
